


Omne Trium Perfectum

by Savi909



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco is emotional, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ron Weasley Bashing, Triad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:33:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8646739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savi909/pseuds/Savi909
Summary: The second wizarding war is over, and all the students in Harry's year are trying to pick up the pieces. When a secret friendship resurfaces, and then means more, Harry, Hermione, and Draco are in for yet another adventure-filled school year. Thankfully, minus Voldemort; unfortunately, plus a jealous Ron Weasley with PTSD.





	1. There's A First For Everything

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and settings in this work are entirely the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, I'm just manipulating the facts.

Harry had loved meeting all the Weasley’s, they were a rowdy bunch and much like he imagined a real family to be. But, by the time he was boarding the Hogwarts express, all the carrot-tops had disappeared and he was left to board the roaring train alone. He always managed to end up alone.

                Much shoving was needed to even be able to reach the compartments, with their sliding glass doors, but he finally made it to the first year carriage nearly unscathed. A boy with fat cheeks and big teeth asked him if he’d seen a toad anywhere, but Harry shook his head with a frown, and began searching for an empty compartment.

                As he passed one with the sliding glass door open, a boy with light silvery blond hair leaned out and tapped him on the shoulder.

                “You can sit with me, if you’d like,” the blond said, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes were a deep molten silver that Harry just couldn’t look away from.

                “Uh, sure, thanks,” he hesitated, running a hand through his unruly black hair and straightening his broken glasses. They were always broken.

                The blond boy was shorter than Harry, with a straight nose and royal walk. He was already in his school robes, as Harry noticed, and was the only one in the compartment prior to Harry showing up. An array of sweets from the candy cart, which one passed on their way on the train, were spread about one bench. He closed the sliding glass once Harry was inside, rounding on him.

                “My name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” the blond held his hand out to shake, “and you, I know, are Harry Potter.” Harry actually smiled at the polite recognition, it was much better than being stared at or whispered about. So, Harry took Draco’s hand and shook it, taking the seat on the opposite bench from the sweets. Draco sat amongst the hoard.

                “Want a chocolate frog?” Draco offered, practically shoving the box into Harry’s hands.

                “A-A what?” Harry was confused, which sent Draco into a fit and he had to explain everything about the wizarding world to the boy who was raised as a muggle.

                After a lot of what felt like etiquette lessons, the boys were interrupted by a petit girl with bushy brown hair and front teeth that were too large for her mouth. She was also in her school robes, making Harry feel much underdressed, and she asked about a toad just like the boy from earlier.

                “A boy named Neville’s lost one,” she said, leaning against the door frame, only to get a good look at Harry for the first time and pause.

                “Wait, I know you! You’re Harry Potter,” the girl came in and sat down next to Harry, who lifted his bangs to show his lightning-bolt shaped scar.        

                “I’m Hermione Granger,” the girl said, then turned her chocolate eyes towards the blond boy as if noticing him for the first time. “And, you are?”

                “Draco Malfoy, madam, at your service,” he did a small bow while seated, grinning like a fool.

                “Pleasure,” Hermione said. After a pause, she took notice of the state of Harry’s glasses.

                “Oh, you can’t walk around looking like that,” she covered her mouth when she laughed, pulling her Vinewood wand from the pocket in her robes, “ _Occulus reparo_.” The glass seemed to mold back together and the wire framing un-bent itself.

                “I love magic,” he whispered in wonder.

                “Well,” Hermione stretched when she stood, “You should probably put on your robes, we’ll be arriving soon.” She nodded her bushy head at both Draco and Harry as she left, shutting the glass door behind her.

                “I hope I end up in the same House as her!” Draco exclaimed. Both boys dissolved into laughter when Harry asked what the bloody hell Houses were, then Harry went to don his uniform.

 

 

                When the train stopped, Harry gazed up at the giant castle with Draco standing right beside him. Hagrid, the half giant who brought Harry to the wizarding world, came up beside the two boys, calling for all first years.

                “We get to ride the boats now,” Draco whispered to Harry as they followed Hagrid. The blond boy was practically bouncing with excitement, while trying, and failing, to remain poised.

                The two scrambled ahead of the crowd, passing Hermione, each giving her a smile and a wave. She shyly waved back, but continued talking to who Draco identified as Daphne Greengrass. Harry and Draco gazed longingly up at the castle as the boats set off, with the lanterns casting looming shadows over the water.  By the time they found themselves on the long front staircase, Ronald Weasley had caught up to them, grabbing Harry by the arm.

                “Ron!” Harry exclaimed, surprised by the force with which the Weasley had grabbed him. Draco had spun around, too, with Harry’s cry. Ron was glaring at the blond, tugging on Harry to lead him away.

                “Don’t, Ron,” Harry tried reclaiming his arm, but the redhead’s grip tightened.

                “You can’t go making friends with the wrong sort, Harry!” Ron whispered urgently. Draco snorted.

                “What?” Ron bristled, still gripping Harry.

                “Red hair, hand-me-down robes,” Draco looked down his nose at Ron, “you must be a Weasley.”

                “Draco, be nice,” Hermione had appeared out of nowhere, arm linked with Daphne, who was also glaring at Ron.

                “Ahem,” Minerva McGonagall’s voice carried over all the first years, “We’re ready for you, follow me.”

                The Great hall was amazing, Harry realized with a start. He was following as closely as Ron’s grip would allow behind Draco. The Sorting Hat began singing about the founders and the houses, bringing Harry’s conversations with Hagrid and Draco back to forefront of his mind.

                Harry and Hermione went to Gryffindor together, and Ron quickly followed suit.

                Draco smiled an empty smile when the sorting hat screamed Slytherin from his pale haired head.

 

 

                Classes seemed like a breeze for Hermione, until she caught Draco whispering and snickering to two other Slytherins every time she raised her hand. The hurting pang that went through her chest surprised her, because he wasn’t really her friend. It was already a couple days in, and her marks were excellent, and news of her inferior blood had already spread through the green and silver House. She tried to make herself not care, until he called her that _word_.  

                And then Ron had to go and call her a nightmare, to Harry.

                So there she sat, in the girl’s lavatory, crying her eyes out. Hermione ignored every hungry grumble her stomach made. She didn’t want to face the boys at dinner – plus Draco staring from across the room, with an almost hurt look in his eyes.

                The door to the lavatory opened and shut, then she could see someone pacing in front of the stalls from where she sat on the floor. She quieted her breathing, wiping her face on the sleeve of her robes. A little sniffle echoed off the stone walls, though, and then she found herself being scooped up into someone’s arms.

                Catching a flash of fluffy raven-black hair, she realized it was Harry, and embraced him back.

                “Thank you,” she whispered, and he squeezed her tighter in response.

                Another bang alerted the duo to another presence in the room, and they turned to find Draco standing there with a frantic look on his face.

                “There’s a troll coming this way,” he huffed, grabbing both of them and pulling them into the hall.

                “Towards the school?” Hermione questioned, brow furrowed.

                “No, it’s already in the school,” Draco said, “And Quirrell freaked, then fainted, when he came to tell us.” Harry laughed and Hermione gave a small smile at that. Draco began dragging the two people he actually considered his real friends – apart from Nott and Zabini – towards where he knew the closest broom cupboard was.

                The Slytherin shoved his friends in before he clambered after them, muttering a locking spell, then a _Lumos_. Hermione gasped, amazed, and Draco stared longingly at her golden brown eyes. Harry just sat on the dusty floor, then pulled Hermione down to sit with him, wiping at her tear-stained face.

                “Sorry ‘bout Ron, ‘Mione,” Harry whispered.

                “What did that ginger oaf do?” Draco demanded, his eyes flashing angrily. Whatever this protective feeling he had over the two Gryffindors was, it was driving the blond Malfoy heir crazy, but he had a reputation to uphold and an elitist father to impress.

                “Called me ridiculous,” Hermione’s voice was small in the enclosed space. Draco groaned, sitting on the other side of Harry.

                “He isn’t very bright, you know,” Draco told them, bumping into Harry to stress his point. He didn’t want them to be friends with the youngest boy Weasley. Knowing both Harry and Hermione’s blood lineage, he wasn’t trying to steer them away from the “Weasley blood traitors”, but he knew that the youngest boy of the family had a mean streak like no other.

 

                According to gossip the next day, Ron Weasley had stumbled upon the troll while looking for Harry, and had defeated him by sheer dumb luck. He had also, to Hermione’s annoyance, used _Wingardium Leviosa_ , the same spell he had called her ridiculous for yesterday.  

 

**************

 

                Draco had only told his mother about his two new friends, afraid of what his father’s reaction would be. Narcissa Malfoy, however, saw the peculiar look in her son’s deep, mercury eyes, and knew that they were important to him.

                So, in future years, any time Draco sent news home of either Harry Potter or Hermione Granger, Narcissa paid attention. She knew how distraught her son had been when the girl – unfortunately muggle-born – had been petrified. He had written, however, that she had gotten the book page he planted in her study things, and that it may have saved her life.

                The next bit of news regarding the three of them was Draco’s fear for Harry; it was their third year and Sirius Black was on the loose. Narcissa knew her cousin fairly well, and didn’t believe Sirius was out to kill Harry Potter – it was _not_ Sirius who had betrayed the Potters, after all. Draco was also angry with his father, Lucius, and the fact that he was a pureblood. She could see that his constant bullying of his two best friends in public was draining her son.

                She laughed when he wrote that Hermione had hit him.

                Draco’s fourth year brought the Triwizard Tournament, and Lucius was always talking of the Dark Lord’s return. Narcissa loved her husband dearly, but he was a fool to think his Lord Voldemort would spare even _them_ from the havoc he would wreak.

                After Draco had told his mother how gorgeous Hermione had been at the Ball that winter, she barely ever heard news about them. She’d nearly forgotten how much Draco cared about Harry and Hermione until he refused to identify them that fateful day at the Manor. Then, with the petit muggle-born girl screaming under Bella’s hands, Narcissa watched her son carefully. He looked tortured himself.

                Narcissa knew for sure Harry had still been alive, when the Dark Lord had sent the killing curse his way. But, for Draco, she had to lie. Seeing Hermione and Draco’s faces when they gazed upon Harry’s seemingly lifeless body from across the battle zone choked tears to her eyes.

                Draco hadn’t known Harry had lived until news of Lord Voldemort’s defeat reached the Manor. Narcissa had not told him, for fear that her only son would return to the battle for slaughter.

                When the trials had come around, The Golden Trio had gone to every single one.


	2. Pains and Flames

Hermione was relieved that Hogwarts was reopening, and accepting the previous seventh years back. She had all but dragged Harry and Ron through Diagon Alley, trying to create some excitement. Harry faked it well enough, but Ron seemed to be in a sour mood. He had been, since losing Fred, and being softly rejected by Hermione didn’t help a bit.

                Now, they were settling into the new section of Hogwarts for who McGonagall had referred to as “eighth years”. They didn’t have a House, and all their rooms were individual, with expert silencing charms applied to the walls. Hermione knew it was because they all still had nightmares.

                “You all don’t belong to just one House anymore,” McGonagall had told the crowd, “You needed the strengths of each Founder to make it through this war – kindness, knowledge, bravery, and cunning.” Hermione had let a tiny smile slip onto her face during this, playing with one of her brown ringlets. With that, the new Headmistress had departed, and Hermione had plopped herself down on a couch in their spacious eighth year common room.

                She was happy with the neutral tones, occasionally interrupted by an accent piece in one of the House colors. Right then, Hermione was seated on a warm, cream couch with a grey fluffy blanket draped over her legs. The other couch was dark brown, and across from it were two black leather recliners. Over the fireplace, which was directly in front of Hermione, hung the Hogwarts crest on a beautiful tapestry, which seemed soft to the touch. The area rug was plush, with all the neutral colors in it, tying the space together. A small kitchenette was off to one side, with a kettle to make tea and an icebox that was already full of alcohol. Off the kitchen was a table, big enough to seat six comfortably and maybe ten if they squeezed.

                Behind Hermione was the three hallways that led to the students rooms; Harry and she were in the leftmost hall, while Ron had been assigned to a room in the right, the hall closest to the kitchen. That fact had made Hermione roll her eyes.

                She was already unpacked, so while Harry disappeared to finish organizing his room and Ron probably gone to the Gryffindor common room to check on Ginny, Hermione opened one of her favorite muggle novels and began to read quietly. After a few minutes, her eyes drooping as she finally grew tired from the excitement of the day, she barely registered someone sitting next to her. The person was dragging their hand through her curls, lulling her to sleep, and once she finally slumped over they slipped the book from her hands and marked her place.

                Harry emerged from his bedroom clad in his pajamas, determined to sit with Hermione and fall asleep to her hands in his hair. He loved that she did it absentmindedly while she read, and thinking about it made him grin widely. But, instead of her curly brown hair poking over the back of the couch, Harry caught sight of a white blond head he was very familiar with.

                Skirting around the couch as silent as he could, Harry made his way to the kitchenette to fetch the kettle, which was just starting to whistle. His movement and noise startled Draco unintentionally, who nearly woke Hermione when he jumped two feet in the air. At Hermione’s whimper, Harry turned and observed Draco coaxing her back to sleep, and noted that she looked too skinny, especially next to Draco Malfoy.

                “Draco,” Harry interrupted the silence, his old friend’s grey eyes meeting his steady green. The pale boy’s hands were steadily rubbing Hermione’s feet and calves, but stopped nervously with Harry’s gaze.

                “Harry,” Draco’s voice cracked with emotion, tears welling up and threatening to spill over. The blond hid it well, though, clearing his throat and flicking his hair out of his face. Harry brought three cups on the tray, but only filled two, one for himself and the other for the Malfoy heir. Hermione was facing the back of the couch, with her shirt riding up to show her lower back, but in case she woke Harry made sure he had another mug.

                “We forgave you a long time ago, Draco,” Harry admitted after a tense silence. Carefully, Harry lifted Hermione’s torso off the couch, sitting down and settling her head in his lap on a pillow.

                “I-I still,” Draco cleared his throat again, “I don’t think-“

                “Hey,” the black-haired boy interrupted him with a hand on his left arm, over the Dark Mark, making Draco flinch away. Harry was persistent, though, reaching across Hermione to take Draco’s hand tightly.

                “Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are an idiot if you believe for one second that we don’t care about you,” Hermione’s sleepy voice whispered, her hand joined Harry’s and Draco’s. The blond gave two of his favorite people a watery smile.

                An hour later found all three sound asleep, tea never having been touched.

 

 

                Draco woke up in his bedroom, the soft sheets from home cradling him and keeping in the warmth. Someone was knocking on his door, and by the light from the window he figured it was midmorning. Thank Merlin it was a Saturday.

                Clumsily, he got to his feet and shuffled towards the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wand. The face on the other side was surprising, but in all circumstances expected.

                “Blaise,” Draco smiled at his dark skinned Italian friend.

                “Hey Drake,” Blaise Zabini was leaning against the stone wall, and his eyes suddenly shot down to Draco’s naked chest, covered in scars. Noticing his friend’s line of sight, the blond grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head nervously.

                “Skipping breakfast, Malfoy?” Theodore Nott called from further down the hall in a teasing voice.

                “Of course not, you arseholes!” Draco laughed, rooting around for a pair of trousers in his trunk. He decided to keep the white short-sleeve on that he’d pulled off of his bed.

                “Hurry up, then!” Blaise shut the door, his laughter carrying through the hall way. The two guys huddled at the end of the left hall, waiting for the Malfoy heir to emerge decent enough for the Great Hall.

                At the sound of a door opening down the hall, both turned their heads and they grasped their wands tight by reflex. They relaxed when a head of bushy brown hair came into view, but Hermione was startled into surprised laughter. The girl was still in her pajama pants and had one of Potter’s old Quidditch jerseys on.

                “Theodore, Blaise,” Hermione nodded at them on her way to the kitchen for some tea. They were surprised the Gryffindor Princess had called them by their first names, and cordially at that. She glanced back at them over her shoulder when she reached the small stovetop, smiling at their dumbstruck faces. She caught a flash of pale blond behind them, and she focused more on her tea to hide her blush.

                “Good morning, Draco,” Hermione murmured. Theo and Blaise jumped when Draco put his hands on their shoulders.

                “Hermione,” he nodded his head at her in greeting. He wanted to tell his other friends before he showed his true comradery to his two favorite Gryffindors. 

                “Come, gentlemen,” Draco practically dragged Blaise and Theo from the eighth year common room, “let’s dine, I’m starved.” Hermione waved at all three Slytherin men, trying to keep a straight face.

                They descended the staircase in silence, two of the three trying to wrap their minds around what had just transpired. Once they reached the first landing, waiting for a moving staircase, Theo broke the silence.

                “Uh, why was Hermione Granger, Golden Girl and pain in your ass know-it-all, just _nice_ to us?” The Nott heir let out a chuckle, and Draco rolled his eyes.

                “She’s not a pain in my ass, Theo,” he said, steel grey eyes meeting those of his two friends.

                “Well then what the bloody hell was-“

                “We’re best friends,” Draco interrupted Blaise, who looked annoyed.

                “What?” Theo stopped just shy of the Great Hall doors, taking a long look at Draco’s very serious expression.

                “Potter, too,” the blond said just above a whisper.

                “Wait, wait, wait,” Blaise held up his hands as if he were going to put them on Draco’s shoulders, but since being Marked, Draco was jumpy, so Blaise thought better of it.

                “Oh Merlin, what?” Draco was hungry, and not at all in the mood for their invading questions, but he knew that they needed to know. All the people important to Draco needed to get along. At least his mother was on board, she’d always told him Hermione and Harry were special to him in a way he didn’t yet understand.

                “You’re telling us that you’ve been friends with _The Golden Trio_?” Theo was laughing. “For how bloody _long_ , Drake? Were you ever going to tell us?” Draco cleared his throat as Theo’s laughter died down, and both could see the level of seriousness in his molten gaze.

                “Let’s go sit down,” he said after a few seconds of silence. They filed into the Great Hall, Draco’s shoulders tense as he figured out what the fuck he was going to say. How do you tell the two people you’ve known since nappies that you _love_ two people you’d been brought up to hate? That one word terrified Draco Malfoy – love.

                So, once the blond had seated himself between Blaise and Theo, he began explaining. While they loaded their plates, he told them about the train ride, and the troll. How being separated from the two of them felt like cutting out an important organ from his chest, and that it had terrified him. Once his two companions began eating, he talked of wanting to help Harry in the tournament, to warn him. The fact that as Hermione steadily beat him every single year in classes, he found himself more proud than vexed, and he despised torturing her with that awful _word_.

                “I still dream about saving her that day,” Draco finally took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

                “At the Manor,” Blaise finished for him after a sip of pumpkin juice, “from your crazy-“

                “Don’t,” Draco said tersely, “but yes.” The boys ate a little more, but Draco eventually pushed away his porridge, popping a piece of fruit in his mouth.

                “Harry, too,” he was now staring intently at the food he wasn’t going to eat.

                “You thought he was dead, didn’t you?” Theo’s question drew Draco’s gaze, giving all the answer the other two Slytherins needed.

                “I would’ve come back,” Draco’s throat was tightening, remembering Harry’s body hanging limply in the half-giant Hagrid’s arms. His heart rate was increasing, he was starting to panic; he couldn’t do this in a room full of people, and to top it off he hadn’t seen Harry that morning. What if-?

                “Draco, hey,” Blaise had a warm hand on his shoulder, grounding him to reality, “you’re okay, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are just upstairs.” Theo and Blaise met eyes, dually determined to make an effort for their old friend.

                “Can we -“ Draco’s panic was fizzling out, but only a fraction, as it still sat bubbling in his chest.

                “Let’s go see Potter and Granger,” Blaise said, hoisting Draco up on his unsteady feet. Theo grabbed two apples, knowing Blaise would just eat his if he didn’t bring an extra, and followed his friends up the moving staircases to the seventh floor. Across from the blank wall which housed the door to the Room of Requirement, hung a painting of the ancient Greek Goddess Athena; said painting was the door to the eighth year dormitory.


	3. Violent Eyes

Hermione watched Draco push his Slytherin friends out of the portrait hole, and they met eyes as he pulled it shut. She gave him a faint smile, hoping for the best. Once he was gone, she rested her hip against the counter, sipping her tea and trying not to burn her tongue. Hermione liked being the only one in the common room, it was quiet, but homely.

                Shuffling could be heard down one of the room halls, making her tense, clutching her vinewood wand in her hand. During the war, she had learned to duel quite well with both hands, and she felt the adrenaline. Hermione was still not used to living with people who never announced their comings and goings.

                “Granger, put your wand away,” Daphne Greengrass quipped, with her blonde bedhead, emerging from the center hall while rubbing her face to wake up. Her sleep shorts were rumpled, and lime green with white polka dots, while her sleep shirt was baby blue and appeared to be soft cotton. Hermione laughed at Daphne’s socks, which had fox faces all over them and were knee-highs, but one had bunched down around her ankle. She sourly noted that the other girl looked much more elegant even after just waking up than Hermione ever did, and figured it came with the pureblood regal attitude.

                “Tea?” Hermione finally relaxed, and tucked her wand behind her ear in an effort to calm her nerves. Daphne smiled, pulling her long hair into a sloppy bun on top of her head.

                “Definitely, Golden Girl,” the heiress replied, drumming her manicured fingertips on the bar top. Hermione poured, sliding the black mug along with the sugar bowl and creamer towards her. The girls sipped in silence for a good five minutes before Hermione finally spoke.

                “I’m sorry, Daph, about your dad-“ she attempted to apologize, but Daphne held up a hand to stop her.

                “Hermione, please,” the blonde girl took one of her friend’s hands in her own, “he was a fool, and put both me and Tori in danger with his idiocy. I have lost all respect for my father.” At this admission, though, Daphne’s eyes watered. Her young sister Astoria had not survived the Battle of Hogwarts, and Hermione had been at the memorial service, as well as her father’s and Daphne’s own trials. The latter had gone better than expected, but the former had resulted in a life sentence in Azkaban prison. There hadn’t been much Hermione could do.

                “Good morni-“, Harry’s voice carried in the mostly empty room. Both girls were startled out of their trip down memory lane, Daphne shooting to her feet and both aiming their wands at the intruder.

                “Oh, Merlin!” Daphne exclaimed.

                “Harry James Potter!” Hermione shouted at the same time. The man looked so frightened and guilty that both girls dissolved into giggles, relieving the tension. Hermione breathed deeply to calm her nerves; if this continued, she’d become an adrenaline addict for sure.

                Daphne sighed in happy relief, smiling widely. She was the only other Slytherin who had befriended the pair of Gryffindors during their younger years, happy to have a girl to hold an intelligent conversation with and who didn’t make fun of her glasses whenever she wore them. Becoming a Death Eater herself due to her father’s loyalty to Lord Voldemort, and in order to protect her sister, made Daphne believe that surely Hermione would never speak to her again. She was overjoyed to know she was wrong.

                Harry finally deemed it safe to enter the kitchen as Hermione tucked her wand back behind her ear, and Daphne copied her. He smiled at Daph, planting a kiss on Hermione’s cheek as he passed her to the kettle that still sat on the warm stove.

                Someone was making a lot of noise as they came down one of the halls, so the three students weren’t surprised when none other than Ron Weasley came waltzing into the common room. Hermione had seated herself on a bar stool next to Daphne, and Harry had taken Hermione’s previous spot leaning against the countertop. She idly hoped this morning so far would become a routine of sorts.

                “Morning Harry, ‘Mione,” the redhead shuffled into the kitchen, opening cupboards and then the small refrigerator. He stopped when he finally noticed Daphne, sitting extremely close to Hermione that their shoulders were brushing against each other.

                The next instant found both girls knocked to the floor, a wand in Daphne’s face and one of Ron’s large hands around Hermione’s upper arm. He was squeezing hard enough to leave bruises that Hermione knew dittany paste would take hours to fade.

                “What did you do to them?” Ron yelled in the blonde girl’s face, sticking his wand at her throat harshly.

                “Ronald, let me go!” Hermione was pushing at his strong grip, trying to wriggle away. Harry was shocked into uselessness until that point, but with Hermione’s plea sprang to action.

                “Ron, what in Merlin’s name-“

                “She’s got you two Imperiused, doesn’t she?” Ron was practically feral, growling in Daphne’s face. “Sneaky little Death Eater bitch.”

                “Get off of me, Ron!” Hermione was shouting, trying to reach her wand which had rolled away when she fell. Ron didn’t let go, though, only dragged her closer to him, and further from her precious wand.

                “I didn’t do anything to them, Weasley,” Daphne said firmly, a strong gleam in her eye. She still had her wand, thankfully, but now Ron was leaning heavily on the curly haired witch lying on the carpet next to her. Hermione could not end up like Tori, she had to do something.

                “Ron, let go of them,” Harry had finally thought to brandish his own wand, pointing it at the back of his ginger friend’s head.

                “She’s a Death Eater, Harry, clear your head,” Ron replied, then pulled Hermione up only to slam her back down into the carpet. “You too, Hermione! Wake up!” With Hermione’s cry of pain, Daphne made a snap decision, pulling her wand and rolling on top of her friend’s body.

                “ _Stupefy_!” Ron’s body collapsed, but Daphne was there to deflect him from sagging onto Hermione, who she thought could have a concussion.

                “Shite, Greengrass,” Neville Longbottom had shown up to investigate the ruckus, shaking his head at Ron’s actions. Daphne fumbled to sit up on her knees, taking Hermione’s face in her warm hands.

                While Daphne was casting a diagnostic spell on a very dizzy Hermione, then helping her to the couch, Neville and Harry moved Ron back to his bedroom.

 

**********

 

                Draco slipped through the portrait hole, still being half dragged and half supported by Blaise Zabini, with Theo Nott following them. The scene that they turned up on was tranquil; Hermione had her curly head in Daphne Greengrass’s lap, Neville Longbottom had _The Daily Prophet_ in his hands but was practically falling asleep on top of it, and The Chosen One was pouring himself more tea. 

                “Potter,” Blaise said, his sudden appearance waking Neville completely, the tall boy standing and clutching his wand.

                “Chill, Longbottom, we do live here too,” Theo said calmly. When Harry noticed Draco half way through a panic attack, staring straight at him, he knew what was running through the other man’s mind.

                “Draco, I’m real,” Harry promised, moving closer, “I am alive, and you are alive, and the Dark Lord Voldemort is dead.” When Harry said that, Draco’s breath quickened, and he moved closer, grabbing the blond’s not-branded forearm and looking deep into his eyes.

                 “I’m right here, Draco, and we’re all okay.” He seemed to be relaxing until a bright spell whizzed past, sending them all into overdrive.

                “Bloody sodding Death Eaters!” Ron was shouting, and Daphne curled herself around Hermione, who seemed uncharacteristically frightened. Harry was shoved behind Draco, who wrapped the arm that wasn’t brandishing his wand around Harry in a protective way.

                “Weasley, we’re not Death Eaters anymore,” Theo was trying to talk the man down, he had always been the levelheaded one.

                “Yes, you are, and always will be!” Ron let another spell fly, and he wasn’t using harmless ones.

                “Ron, think about this,” Neville pleaded. He was closest, able to grab the wand right out of Ron’s hand if he could catch him off guard.

                “Not you too, Nev,” Ron turned his wand on the taller fellow, stunning him but having the mercy to soften his landing with a cushioning spell.

                “Weasley, you need to calm down,” Blaise said in his deep resonating tone.

                “No, you need to lower your wands, and let Harry and Hermione go,” Ron was stalking towards them now, and if he turned his head just a bit to his right he’d be able to see Daphne hunkered down on the cream couch over Hermione’s shaking form.

                “Merlin, you really are thick, aren’t you?” Theo snorted.

                “Shut up!” Ron growled out. He happened a glance that caused him to meet eyes with Hermione, and he mistook her expression for fear of Daphne instead of fear of himself.

                In one smooth motion, the ginger grabbed Hermione by her ankle and pulled her down the couch towards him, yanking her roughly by the arm and into his embrace. She began fighting and pushing against Ron’s chest, but he was much bigger and stronger; Hermione was still weak and thin from the malnutrition during the war.

                Draco took a step towards Ron and Hermione, finally close enough to tell that she was real – but unfortunately Ronald Weasley was real too. Very real, and holding one of the people he loved hostage in his arms, tight enough to leave bruises.

                The Malfoys had never before resulted to muggle ways of fist fighting.

                Draco was enthusiastic to be the first. And he hoped the last, because it bloody _hurt_. Hermione had gotten caught in the crossfire, and she was also on the ground, bleeding. Draco was going to revel in his bruised knuckles for a few days.

                Ron had long passed out, due to pain or overexertion nobody would ever know, before Harry and Blaise could pull Draco off of the second youngest Weasley. Theo and Daphne had stopped the bleeding on Hermione’s head wound, and were levitating her through the portrait hole when Draco came back down to reality.

                He was shaking. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco from behind, pulling him off of Ron so Blaise could drag the bloke unceremoniously to the Headmistress’s office through the Floo. He found himself wondering why the stupid ginger was so aggressive towards Hermione and Harry.

                “I don’t know the answer to any of your fast questions, Draco,” Harry said quietly into the blond man’s ear, “but you need to calm down.” He was pulling away, but Draco’s broken whimper caused Harry’s grip to tighten instead of release.

                Harry Potter caught himself wishing things had been different for Draco. He scolded himself for it, because Draco wouldn’t be _himself_ without the unfortunate things he’d had to endure.

                Both wizards stayed in that awkward embrace for half an hour, braving the warm tears dripping down their faces; the saddest kind, not accompanied by chest-wracking sobs.


	4. Dependency

                “Draco,” Harry released the blond Slytherin, who sat back on his heels and wiped his face. He could tell that this was increasingly difficult for Draco to deal with, especially now that he was finally free from all the blood prejudice. But now, being an ex-Death Eater, he was seen as enemy number one; they were privy to a whole new level of hatred.

                “Harry, what the bloody hell happened?” The tall, lanky seeker got up off the floor, turning to face Harry with an odd gleam in his eye. They were practically toe-to-toe, and Harry could feel the tension rolling off of Draco.

                “Well,” Harry sat on one of the barstools, putting his head in his hands and pulling at his already crazy hair, “Ron assumed that ‘Mione and I… That you guys used the Imperious Curse on us,” he sighed.

                “That’s insane,” Draco spat, “you two – I wouldn’t –“

                “Draco, I know,” Harry said, “you need to calm down.”

                “Harry!” Draco groaned, “Please, tell me what that Weasley did to you two.”

                “He – uh, Ron pinned Daph and ‘Mione to the floor and –“

                “Did he aim his wand at her?” Draco interrupted Harry, putting his hands on the dark haired boy’s shoulders. “Harry, did he threaten Hermione!?” Draco was shaking his friend now.

                “Draco, hang on, calm down!” Harry had to yell over the blond wizard’s freak out, putting his hands on Draco’s face. They were staring into each other’s eyes now, bright green on vivid silver.

                “I-I th-think I need a-a calming dr-draught,” Draco whispered, his tremors returning. Harry wrapped his arms around him, pulling his best friend into a comforting hug. Harry hadn’t known how bad Draco’s anxiety had been; the pureblood boy hadn’t been able to be in much contact with them since Voldemort rose during the Triwizard Tournament.

                “Let’s go see our girl, alright?” Harry murmured, rubbing Draco’s back soothingly. The boy always tried to be strong for his two Gryffindors, but Harry knew there was only so much one person could take.

                Draco nodded minutely, squeezing Harry back briefly, then letting go and moving towards the portrait hole. Harry sighed deeply, following behind Draco.

 

**********

 

                Hermione had only woken up for a few moments – long enough for them to shove a pain potion into her hand and coax the girl into drinking it. Theo was twirling one of Hermione’s curls in his fingers while Daphne was explaining to Madam Pomfrey everything that had happened. After about ten minutes of talking, the plump nurse came over and fluffed some pillows and shut the curtains, then disappeared from the ward.

                “That crazy old bat,” Daphne laughed, approaching the hospital bed with a tub of dittany paste in her hands.

                “She never did care what House we were in,” Theo said with a smile, his hands dropping back down to the mattress. Daphne sat down next to Hermione’s body, taking her hand and rubbing the knuckles in a circular pattern.

                “Did you tell Poppy everything?” Theo asked. Daphne nodded, her eyes on their sleeping friend’s face. Well, her sleeping friend; she wasn’t so sure what Theo or Blaise thought of all this yet, and telling Pansy would be a nightmare. Imagining the screeching by itself made Daphne wince. Then there was telling the other Gryffindors, and that one Ravenclaw girl that hung around with them.

                “Daph,” Theo’s quiet voice broke her train of thought. She glanced up at him, into his thoughtful dark eyes, and wondered why the wily boy turned man had even come back to Hogwarts. His father was in Azkaban, and he had the Nott estate all to himself. Daphne guessed it was because of Blaise, and Draco; she knew why Draco had to come back, one reason was occupying a hospital bed.

                “Hey guys, is –“ Blaise came charging into the hospital wing rather loudly, causing Hermione to stir and for Daphne to shoot the Italian a scathing look. He immediately shut up, and came to stand by the foot of the bed, leaning on the railing.

                Once Hermione had settled down, Daphne tucked her blankets more securely around her legs and kissed her cheek in a friendly gesture, leaving the dittany paste on her bedside table. When the blonde witch turned, she gestured for the two men to follow her into the hall. As the giant doors were swinging shut, Daphne was trying to think of what she was going to say, since she knew that Draco had told them only that morning about this – this _friendship affair_? She snorted.

                “Greengrass, before you say anything,” Theo tried to begin, but lost his words.

                “Drake already told us he was friends with them a long time,” Blaise picked up, “so I guess it’s safe to assume you have been too?”

                Daphne took a deep breath and nodded, expecting anything other than what actually happened. Blaise pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly before Theo took his own turn.

                “I cannot imagine how hard it was,” Theo whispered in her ear, “and you both had to take the Mark. I’m so sorry you two didn’t trust us more.” When he pulled away, he had tears in his eyes. Slytherins were always about family, and supported each other in everything; they were very open with their other House mates usually, but in this case, both Blaise and Theo knew why their friends kept this secret. Blaise had a small smile on his face.

                “What?” Daphne asked, returning his smile with her own.

                “No wonder you two are the best at Occlumency,” he exclaimed, smile widening.

                They were interrupted by the sound of two people thundering through the corridor, and all three drew their wands in surprise. War reflexes never really left, Daphne thought irritably. A mop of fluffy black hair was followed closely by pale blond, and as they got closer the Slytherins dropped their wand arms to their sides. Daphne looked up into Draco’s wild eyes, and pointed towards the doors. He scampered inside, leaving Harry and the rest of them in the dust.

                “Slow down, mate,” Blaise called after him, but the doors were already shut. Harry sighed in relief, slouching against the stone wall.

                “That bad, huh?” Daphne asked Harry, grimacing. During the war, Daph had witnessed one of Draco’s break downs – just after seeing Hermione and Harry in his own house, under his aunt’s wand.

                “It’s going to take some time, for us…” Harry trailed off, not knowing quite what to say in front of Blaise and Theo. The two Slytherins hadn’t targeted the Golden Trio in particular over the years, so there wasn’t any unnecessary hostility, but it was awkward to be around Draco’s _other_ friends.

                Blaise cleared his throat, looking directly at Harry when he spoke.

                “Weasley is subdued, in the Headmistress’s office,” he said. Harry nodded, rubbing his face with a sigh. This was going to be a difficult year. They all knew that Harry needed to go talk to Ron and figure out what happened.

                “Go,” Daphne said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder and practically pushing him towards the doors. He laughed, opening and shutting them behind him as quiet as he could.

                Once he was gone, Theo let out a breath that sounded oddly like a laugh and Daphne leant her back against the stone wall.

                “They’re bloody _dependent_ on each other, aren’t they?” Blaise commented. Daphne sighed, nodding her assent. She couldn’t wrap her head around the relationship the three of them had, it was like they were all in a love triangle of sorts, but she couldn’t understand it. Daphne needed to visit the library.

                “Oh, no, I know that face, Daphne Greengrass,” Theo pointed at her pinched expression, “you’re thinking about the library. Don’t you even dare try to drag us down there with you!”

 

*****

 

                Unfortunately, Daphne did drag Theo and Blaise down to the library. They had full run of it, only the Eighth year and Seventh year students had arrived at the castle yet, and Daphne had a pass to the Restricted Section. They began there.

                “You are the one who brought up their co-dependency,” Theo hissed at Blaise over a mound of volumes, “I _hate_ you right now.” Theo was one of the smartest in their year, just behind Daphne, a Hufflepuff, Draco, and Hermione, so it only made sense that Daph would drag him into studying the dusty tomes with her. _Blaise,_ the _tosser_ , got off easy, just agreeing and disagreeing with possible theories Daphne threw out every once in a while.

                “Why would it effect _Draco_ so badly, though, and not Hermione or Harry?” She was saying as she paced between the shelves.

                “He was separated from them for long periods of time, Daph,” Blaise pointed out, smirking at Theo as he ignored the other boys comment.

                “You’re right!” She yelled, having a light-bulb moment, then taking off back to the restricted section. Daphne was mumbling to herself as she scanned the titles, hoping that she could find the one she was looking for. If she was right, which she knew she was, her three friends were in for a big surprise.

 

*****

 

                Hermione’s face was framed by her rowdy curls, and the soft light cast a glow on her face. Draco held onto her right hand, sagging against the hospital bed as sleep claimed him. It had been too emotional of a day – Harry watched his two favorite people, their relaxed features making them look younger, and thought about Ron’s crazy reaction to everything. What could be going on with him? It’s like he defaulted back to how he acted in sixth year.

                Watching the two, dare he say it, _loves_ of his life sleeping so close together pulled on Harry’s heartstrings. He didn’t know if he could ever admit that he loved them both, or even tear himself apart inside trying to pick one or the other. Loving Hermione had nearly torn his relationship with Ron, which he supposed was dissolved the minute he put a hand on her and Daphne, _which_ reminded him that Ron was currently in McGonagall’s office and the poor woman was probably waiting for an explanation.

                Carefully and quietly, Harry summoned a blanket to wrap around Draco’s shoulders, dropping a brief kiss to Hermione’s forehead and one into Draco’s messy hair, with a small grin on his face. He silenced the large doors so they wouldn’t squeak when he pushed them open, quickly making his way towards the Headmistress’s office and climbing the moving stairs.

                “Mister Potter, I hope you have some sort of explanation as to why, at this early hour, I found Mister Zabini dragging Mister Weasley through my office Floo, unconscious?” McGonagall’s voice found him once he’d gotten through the door.

                “Honestly, Professor, I need a bit of an explanation myself,” Harry admitted, ruffling his hair in nervousness.

                One short talk later, Minerva McGonagall looked speechless. He’d told her about everything; from when he, Draco, and Hermione first became friends, to how it affected the outcome of the war, right down to what had just happened in the eighth year dorm.

                “Have a biscuit, Potter,” was all she’d been able to say afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I have no update schedule on this fic whatsoever, kudos and comments keep me writing!! Thank you for all the support.


	5. Mythological Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Mythology cited in this chapter is taken from real Greek myths and made my own.

                Three Slytherins were running through the corridors from the library, shoving anyone who got in their way to the floor. Thankfully, term hadn’t begun, or they’d probably be getting into a lot of trouble for it. Theo sent yelling apologies to a seventh year Ravenclaw he vaguely recognized, while he tried to keep up with his friends.

                “Harry! Harry!” Daphne was shouting, looking for the Boy Who Lived and clutching an old, worn tome in her hands. She took a detour, in the hope of giving poor Hermione a little while longer to sleep, and forcibly ran into who she was calling for, mid-shout.

                “Daph!” He exclaimed, his eyes going wide as saucers. He looked exhausted.

                “Potter, you’re a damn hard bloke to find in this bloody huge castle,” Theo wheezed, chuckling a bit. Harry looked a bit apologetic, but Theo just waved his hand in a forgiving gesture.

                “You need to see this,” Daphne said, practically shoving the book into his face in a very Hermione-like fashion.

                “Okay, okay,” Harry pushed it away from his face a bit, “what am I looking at?”

                “We were throwing around some ideas,” Blaise began, leaning up against the stone wall, “and trying to figure out why the three of you have this…connection.” At Harry’s frown, he continued. “Daphne and Theo started looking through some old Mythology books, searching for things that come in threes, being mostly people. The most come from the Greeks, so,” Blaise paused to take a breath, but Daphne took over.

                “So, I started looking for things that the ancient wizards cited Grecians for, anything that had to do with three _individual_ and _unrelated_ people.” Daphne pointed to a particular line in the text that was facing Harry. “ _Omne trium perfectum_ , it means that everything in threes is perfect,” she flipped a few pages, “so I looked for just ‘ _trium’_ , and I found what ancient wizards called The Trium of Magicks.”

                Harry scanned the page from where Daphne’s finger was, trying to catch up.

                “They’re Freedom, Fate, and Fury, which are also mentioned with the names Jupiter, Moerae, and Hecate.”

                He stopped scanning the page, looking up at Daphne, who seemed a bit uncomfortable. Harry was growing worried.

                “And?” He asked her, glancing at the other two, his eyebrows scrunching together.

                “And, Harry,” she took the book back, “we believe this is why you three have such a mind-shattering connection. I’ve witnessed it for years. This book says that a long time ago, _before wizards even used wands_ , there were three people who loved each other so deeply, they almost destroyed the world when law said they couldn’t be together. They were the very first Triad! Other wizards bound their magic, and separated them, because together they were stronger, and apart they wreaked havoc on themselves. Jupiter took to power, hoping that if he ruled, he would have enough control to protect his loves, even though he was never able to see them, and he succeeded in becoming King, allowing the world to be free from harm as long as his loves were. Thus, Freedom,” she shrugged delicately.

                “Moerae,” Theo picked up, finally catching his breath, “went into hiding. He was a Seer, and a Healer, who had a passion for the stars and for meddling with Fate, keeping an eye on his loves from afar and he’s the reason they all lived for so long. He’s Fate.”

                “Now, Hecate is the anomaly here, as the history books kind of gloss over her because she’s a woman,” Blaise said. “But, from what we _did_ find, she traveled frequently, aiding whoever she could in whatever they needed. She became a master at anything she tried. The books say that apparently, she happened upon a man who was suspected of killing his wife; she took one look at the bloke and deemed him guilty. Nobody ever found his body, or the rest of the wife-slayers after any of their trials. Hecate was angry that they threw away love, when hers was ripped away from her. Fury.”

                Harry stared at the three Slytherins in shock for a moment, letting their explanation register. He supposed that it made a bit of sense, with everything that had happened. He did love both Draco _and_ Hermione, very dearly, but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. On the other hand, Daphne always did thorough research just like Hermione, and never jumped to a conclusion without _triple checking_ the facts. She seemed extremely sure, and Theo agreed with her.

                “So what does that have to do with Hermione, Draco, and I?” Harry asked suddenly, wanting them to confirm what he already thought they were saying. Daphne glanced at the other two boys before turning to him.

                “We believe you three are a Triad, similar to the first one,” she finally answered.

 

*****

 

                Hermione’s head felt heavy, and her stomach empty, as she slowly woke up. Her arm was trapped under something warm, which seemed oddly like a body, and she hoped that if she ended up back in war time, that it was Harry. She opened her eyes a bit, straining against the late morning light that came through the tall windows opposite her bed. Recognizing the hospital wing, at Hogwarts, she breathed a sigh of relief, looking down at her arm.

                She smiled at the sight of Draco clutching her tiny hand to his chest, bent over awkwardly to sleep against her mattress. The morning had been quite crazy for them and their friends, and her right arm stung a bit when she tried to move it, thankful that Draco had clung to her left one.

                “Hermione?” Draco’s voice was small, and tired, from where he hunched over. His grey eyes were watching her intently, and she wondered how long he’d been awake, or if she’d woken him when she’d tried to assess her injuries.

                “Draco,” she whispered, letting a smile slip onto her face and spread to her warm, brown eyes. He inspected her face, like he had when he’d first gotten to the hospital wing, drawing imaginary constellations between the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheekbones.

                “You’re so beautiful,” he finally said, after minutes of staring, earning an even wider smile from her. Draco smiled back.

                “Okay, we get it, you’re both saps,” Blaise’s deep voice interrupted their moment as he plopped into the chair across from Draco, where Harry had sat just a few hours earlier.

                “Thanks, Zabini,” he rolled his eyes, sitting up and stretching a bit. Hermione actually laughed a bit as Blaise’s jest, happy with the light mood after the morning she’d had.

                “Where’s Harry?” Draco asked, rubbing his eyes and then smoothing his hair back.

                “Harry is taking care of the Weasel, with Daphne and Theo.” It seemed like Blaise was hiding something, but Draco didn’t want to make Hermione fret. She’d suffered a concussion and severe bruising, both easily taken care of by Madam Pomfrey, who said she’d still suffer some soreness for a few days but would be okay.

                “Are you alright, Granger?” Blaise turned to Hermione, a bit of concern in his eyes but the rest of his features betrayed nothing.

                “I’m fine, Blaise,” she said, a bit quietly, “just eager to get out of here.”

                “Fucking Weasley,” Draco muttered. He was angry, but right now Hermione was his main focus. She looked uncomfortable, stretching her sore muscles and being stared at by Blaise and himself, while still in her pajamas from earlier. Judging by the sun streaming through the windows, it had to be around midday, just late enough for some food.

                “Want to go grab some lunch?” He suggested, looking between Blaise and Hermione.

                “I’ll go let Pomfrey know that Granger here is leaving,” Blaise said, getting up to approach the matron’s office.

                Hermione hurriedly swung her legs over the side of the hospital bed, eager to leave and finding herself quite hungry. She straightened, feet on the floor, checking to make sure she had her wand in her pocket as Blaise rushed back over. The dark-skinned wizard offered Hermione his arm, and she took it without hesitation, letting him lead her to the Great Hall as Draco trailed behind, hair still sleep-mussed.

 

                Surprisingly, Theo was waiting just inside the large doors, in the company of a blonde, doe-eyed Ravenclaw. They were deep in conversation about the latest issue of _The Quibbler_ that her father had published just last week.

                “Luna!” Hermione exclaimed, wrapping an arm around her neck.

                “Hello, Hermione. I’m glad to see you go somewhere with at least one of them,” she said.

                “What?” The Gryffindor girl asked, confused. Theo sighed.

                “I have a lot to explain to you and Draco,” Theo told Hermione.

                “Let me explain it to Draco,” Luna piped up, “Fate will understand me. I trust that you two can make sure Hermione is well taken cared for.”

                With that, Luna stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Theo’s cheek quickly, then approached Draco and led him away from the Great Hall and out into the warm autumn air.

 

*****

 

                Luna led Draco to the courtyard, gently sitting on one of the stone benches and pulling him down beside her. They stayed quiet for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of leaves rustling and owls hooting. Hogwarts was peaceful again, at last. Draco found himself smiling.

                “It must be so lonely, being a star.” She finally said quietly. Draco was taken aback at her statement, sure she meant him.

                “Is it not a lonely life being the moon?” He countered, eyebrow raised.

                “Not when you have an equal,” Luna said, “a balance. Someone who is all light.”

                The conversation lulled for a few minutes, there. Draco noticed that Luna was not wearing shoes, and her long hair was braided down her back in an unusual way. Her shirt was bright yellow with a large sunflower on the front, and her muggle-looking pants were brown. Instead of radishes hanging from her ears, though, there were little purple eagles, he guessed for her house.

                “Your mother is a very intuitive person,” she told him, “and she probably already knows.”

                “I told her everything when I was younger, of course she knows I love them.” Narcissa was formidable, even cold, to outsiders, but to her only son she was calm, firm, and doting. Definitely not stupid.

                “She knows you’re Fated,” is what Luna said next. “Triads are extremely rare, and powerful, and dangerous. Narcissa Malfoy knew about one, and kept it a secret from Voldemort.” Draco was frozen in shock. A _Triad_?! His own mother _knew?_ He sat there for a few minutes, unable to move. Triads were a children’s story, something women told their kids so they’d hope for love one day and something men told theirs if only to search for power.

                Draco realized that life just got a whole hell of a lot more complicated for him, Harry, and Hermione. _Shite_.


	6. Jupiter, For Freedom

                Daphne decided that Harry being mad was one of the scariest things she had ever had to witness, and she’d been a Death Eater. Ron Weasley was still knocked out and bound to a chair in the Headmistress’s office, because when McGonagall had woken him, he’d seen her and just gone rabid. Harry had been very angry with Ron, though, and they’d screamed until, mercifully, McGonagall had stunned both of them and levitated Harry into a cushy armchair by the fireplace. Daphne decided that right now, she liked Headmistress Minerva McGonagall a hell of a lot.

                Until she decided to steeple her fingers and stare at the Slytherin girl over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

                “So, you say that they’re a Triad?” McGonagall asked, sounding weary. Daphne agreed with the woman’s sentiment: Harry Potter had already had enough shite in his life, why this, too?

                “Yes, madam.” Daphne stretched her fingers from where they tightly clung to the tome against her chest, sitting up a little straighter before opening it to the right page and sliding it before the Headmistress.

                “I can only assume that you left the details out, when you told our Mister Potter here what was going on with himself, Miss Granger, and Mister Malfoy?” McGonagall looked sad for a minute, making a lump form in Daphne’s throat. She needed to keep her best friends safe.

                “Yes, madam. I felt it was the right decision at the time, and still stand by it,” Daphne said firmly.

                “I see.” McGonagall’s mouth turned into a thin line. “Then I can guess there’s something you discovered about their Triad, and Mister Weasley, am I correct, Miss Greengrass?”

                Daphne sat there for a moment, her heart heavy in her chest. Yes, she hated Ron Weasley, if not for what happened that morning, then for keeping Harry and Hermione away from her and Draco, splitting them all up. But, at the same time, he had been part of the Golden Trio, and had kept them safe on the run. And won the war.

                That still didn’t change the facts, though.

                “In every story,” the blonde girl began, “there is an antagonist to go against the protagonist. A villain for a hero, if you will. The whole Wizarding World thought that the Dark Lo – sorry – _Voldemort_ was Harry’s.” Daphne swallowed thickly, trying to keep the images of her friends in pain away. “But someone bound their magic, in their last life. _He_ did, Professor!” Tears escaped, rolling down and off her chin, dripping onto her lap. “I will not let that happen to them, this time. You have to lock him up, keep him away! So they can be happy!”

                McGonagall passed her a handkerchief, which Daphne used to dab at her face. They both turned to look at Harry, slumped over and not showing any signs of waking up soon. Just when everyone thought Hogwarts would get a normal year…

                “So, Miss Greengrass, is it safe to assume that you are their Keeper?” McGonagall asked gently.

                “Yes, I’m supposed to keep them safe, and I may even start a band of Protectors for them, to help me. Once I figure out how.” Daphne sniffled a bit, straightening in her seat. She appreciated the change in subject.

                “I’m sure it’ll come to you naturally, dear.” The Headmistress smiled at her, a bit knowingly. “Now, I must set up new living arrangements, for the four of you at least. As Keeper, you’ll be keyed to all the protection spells and be able to modify anything within the rooms as you see fit. When you add Protectors, for instance, a hallway with bedroom suites may be needed.” A bit of Gryffindor mischief glinted in the elder witch’s eyes, as she pointed her wand at Daphne and uttered a seemingly complicated spell.

                A rush went through Daphne’s magic, settling like warmth under her skin as she recognized the powerful thrum of Hogwarts itself at her fingertips. She felt relieved.

                “There, now, to take care of Mister Weasley, I’ll have to simply modify his memories for now.” Daphne felt her stomach drop to her feet. She stood, ready to go on another rant, but McGonagall put up a hand to shush her.

                “Yes, he assaulted several students and threatened the lives of others, but he is a war hero and has come to further his education.” The witch gestured for her to retake her seat, so she did, her back ramrod straight and skin flushed with anger. “I cannot simply expel the boy for things he did in a past life.”

                Daphne deflated a bit. Realistically, Weasley wouldn’t understand what was going on until the memories began coming back, and that wouldn’t happen until Harry, Hermione and Draco completed their Reuniting Ritual. Being their Keeper was beginning to get complicated.

                “He won’t even remember much of today after I’m finished, be sure to let everyone know that his memories have been modified, though. We don’t want someone attacking him out of the blue.” At that, Daphne let out an unladylike snort, which the Headmistress didn’t comment on.

               

*****

 

                Hermione’s eyes were big as saucers, and she was barely breathing, her gaze flicking between Theo and Blaise.

                “Hermione, you need to say something,” Blaise whispered, hoping she wouldn’t bolt.

                “I-I-I’ve…I’ve loved them both forever,” she finally blurted, eyes still big with shock.

                “We figured as much, Granger, and we’re pretty sure they both feel the same.” Theo butted in. He was afraid that she was going to faint, and glad that they had thought to sit her down and make her eat a little something before they dumped the whole long story on her.

                Meanwhile, Hermione felt for the first time, that her brain was empty. It had clicked. She had no questions, no fears, no need to read up on anything they just told her because she felt that it was true, and knew it deep within her magic. It was exhilarating. She felt perfectly complete, but also missing something. Where were Harry and Draco? Now she begun to feel as if she were missing two limbs. Or maybe this was how one felt when their heart was ripped out of their chest. Not whole.

                Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Why was this new? Where was this feeling coming from? She suddenly felt upset that they weren’t there with her.

                Someone’s cool hand was on her face, wiping at a tear. Hermione startled out of her thoughts to focus on bright, sky blue eyes that were peering into her brown ones.

                “You were lost there, for a minute, Hermione.” Luna’s face remained lively and casual, but her tone suggested concern.

                “Definitely thought she was going to faint, that one,” Blaise remarked to the blonde Ravenclaw.

                “What happened?” Draco’s voice came from behind Luna, and Hermione peeked around her friend to get a look at one of the men she loved. Quickly, she jumped up from the table, practically tackling Draco as she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shirt.

                “I imagine Hermione just felt what you did every day. They had each other, mind. It wasn’t as bad for them.” Luna pointed out. Theo and Blaise looked away as Draco began talking quietly to Hermione, reassuring her.

                Suddenly, Harry’s face, and then Daphne’s, appeared at the front of the Great Hall, making Theo and Blaise push themselves to their feet. Harry acknowledged them with a nod, but angled himself to intercept Draco and Hermione, where they were still clinging to each other. Daphne, however, walked purposefully over to her two fellow Slytherins, and waved a bit when she finally noticed the dotty Ravenclaw in their midst.

                “Daph, what the hell happened?” Theo asked, noticing that the blonde witch seemed a bit agitated.

                “Weasley is getting memory charmed, as we speak.” Daphne spoke through her teeth.

                “What?!” Theo whisper-yelled, the same time Blaise said, “Not expelled?”

                “The git is a bloody war hero,” she said, plopping down on the bench and putting her head in her hands. “All McGonagall will get is bloody yelled at, not to mention bad press.”

                “As the Triad’s Keeper, this must make your job much harder,” Luna said. Everyone else’s heads swiveled towards Daphne, who didn’t look up.

                “Keeper?” Harry asked in confusion.

                “Damn,” Theo and Draco said in unison.

                “When the bloody fuck were you gonna tell us that _little_ bit of information?!” Blaise shouted. His tone was angry, but his face only seemed shocked.

                “I bet she told Headmistress McGonagall,” Luna offered. That made everyone pause, and seemed to lighten the air again.

                “So, what happens now, then?” Draco asked quietly. Daphne sighed.

                “For your own protection, you three and I have to move into a new suite.” She said.

                “And Weasley?” Blaise asked.

                “As far as I know,” she sighed again, “he won’t remember anything that happened today, but we should still steer clear of him. I don’t know what McGonagall is going to tell him when he wakes up.”

                Everyone stayed still for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do or say next. Harry and Draco sat down with Hermione in between them, and Luna on Draco’s other side. Theo and Blaise sat across from them, next to Daphne. Harry was the one to break the silence.

                “We need a plan. To protect each other.” He said.

                “You three are the ones who need protection, Harry.” Daphne objected, finally looking up.

                “Well, if we’re going by this morning, you Slytherins need it, too.” He replied.

                “There’s definitely got to be more people that share Weasley’s feelings for us,” Theo pointed out. Draco and Daphne both shifted uncomfortably.

                “Daph, you and Draco are family to us,” Hermione finally spoke, “and now we care about Theodore and Blaise, too. Nobody will try to attack us here. Besides, aren’t we the only ones who know about this?” She finished saying. They all shared glances, nodding in reply to her question.

                “So, Potter, do you have a plan?” Blaise asked, earning a little grin from Harry.

                “Not a plan, exactly,” he admitted, “but an idea that could become a plan. We pair the Slytherins and Gryffindors off,” Harry looked over at Luna, “or Ravenclaw. Nobody will mess with you that way.”

                “But, we have to be careful of Ron, Harry,” Hermione said.

                “Yes, the pairs have to be carefully thought out. Especially when it comes to classes and convenience.” Daphne chimed in.

                “Do you think Neville would mind, if we asked him to stick with Draco?” Hermione asked Harry. Harry thought about it for a few beats, but was interrupted.

                “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.” Neville’s voice carried from the far end of the table.

                “Neville!” Harry exclaimed, surprised.

                “Just wanted to check on you guys, it was a rough morning,” he told them in explanation. Neville strode down towards them, sitting opposite Harry next to Blaise. “I’ve been standing there for a bit, but I swear I won’t tell anyone your secrets.”

                “Thanks, Nev.” Harry gave his fellow Gryffindor a small smile, while Hermione reached over and patted his hand.

                “Alright,” Theo began, “so Draco’s with Longbottom, who else wouldn’t look suspicious?”

                “I’ll stay with Daphne,” Luna offered with a serene, kind smile.

                “I can go with Granger, we’ve shared most of the same classes in the past,” Blaise said.

                “So, that leaves Theo and I as the final pair-off,” Harry said with an air of finality.

                “Merlin, this year is crazy already.” Daphne plunked her head on the table.

                All eight students, more adults now really, got lost in the silence for a bit, thinking about everything. Harry, Hermione, and Draco were magically tied to each other, Daphne was tied to them, and now they were all paired off for protection of not only the reincarnation of the most powerful Triad in history, but also for the children of the wrong side of the war. Life was really fucked.

                “Let me take you to see our new rooms, you three.” Daphne stood, patting Theo on the shoulder in goodbye and shooting a smile at Luna.

                “Tomorrow is September first. Welcome to our new hell,” she said in parting, dragging Harry, Draco, and Hermione out of the Great Hall with her.


	7. Moerae, For Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about being gone for so long! I promise I haven't abandoned any of my fics, I've just been having a rough time lately. Comments and kudos are love!

                Their new rooms were in a familiar third floor corridor that had Harry and Hermione smothering their smiles. It was just as dusty and dark as they remembered, cobwebs everywhere. They half expected Ms. Norris to come scampering out, meowing her head off as if yelling ‘ _I’ll have you expelled!_ ’ with Mr. Filch not too far behind.

                “Home sweet home,” Daphne muttered as she pushed open a door that they didn’t know was there. All of them gasped.

                The common room that the door opened into was large, and well furnished, with a fireplace off to the right of the door and plenty of couches and chairs situated opposite it. Two large windows were on either side of the fireplace, each with a seat big enough for at least a few people. To the left, bookshelves were set into the wall, and a small study area was established by several desks, each with four chairs around them.

                Walking further into the suite, two columns and a single step separated the front common room from another, more circular room – what looked more like a formal sitting room on the left, and a small kitchen on the right. When one faced the sitting room, directly through the center was a door, that Daphne led them to and opened, showing a bedroom decorated in dark woods and soft ivory colored sheets and walls. There were a closet and a dresser, along with a vanity with a wing-back chair covered in a fabric that mirrored the bedsheets. On the right wall was a door that was open, revealing a large bathroom covered in white marble, and on the back wall in the right corner, was another door, but it was shut. A painting hung above the bed, across from the door, of what looked like a garden gate covered in vines and flowers, with stones of all sizes on the ground in front of it, and it was the only thing of real color.

                “This is my room,” she told them, walking over to sit on the bed, running her fingers along the soft, sheer ivory hangings. “The Headmistress has allowed me, as the Keeper of a Triad, to make whatever changes I deem necessary to keep you three safe, which includes being keyed to the wards of Hogwarts, _and_ ask Hogwarts to make changes to our suite if necessary.” Daphne sighed, standing and passing through them to leave her bedroom once again.

                All three were quiet as she led them out, through the sitting room and down the stair, they stopped to crowd around the columns. Just inside the main common room, on either far wall close to the step where they stood, was a single door on each side. The door on the side with the fireplace and windows was open, and showed a small bathroom – when investigated, it held a toilet, sink and mirror, and a shower. The other door, however, on the side of the study area, was shut.

                “That door,” Daphne told them, pointing to the shut one, “will eventually lead to a hallway with the rooms of your Protectors, once I establish them.”

                “Protectors?” Hermione questioned in a small voice.

                “As the Keeper, I’m much like your right-hand-man, so to speak,” Daphne said, facing her three friends. “I’m required to oversee your safety, your comfort, be a confident, and be a best friend. One of my duties is to establish a few people who will pledge their lives to you, my muscle, if you will. Thus, Protectors.”

                “But why would we need Protectors, if we have all this power inside of us? Isn’t that what a Triad is, powerful?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowed and arms crossed over her chest.

                “Yes, but, well…” Daphne hesitated, before continuing, “…I haven’t told you everything about _you_. Yes, Triads are special and powerful and the product of Fate and all of that mess. But, you three are _The Triad_ , the original. You were really Jupiter, Moerae, and Hecate, you just don’t remember your past lives yet. You’re not just descendants, or something.” She grimaced, waiting for them to be angry.

                For a long minute, nobody moved or spoke a word. Until Draco broke the silence.

                “I’ve had dreams,” he said. They watched him stuff his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

                “What kind of dreams, Draco?” Daphne grew concerned.

                “They’ve been happening for years, I just didn’t realize…”

                “You’re having visions.” Harry stated. The worry was clear on his face.

                “I’ve read about the original Triad, Daphne,” Hermione interrupted, “they – they were feared! Their magic was bound and they were separated!” Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the Slytherin girl.

                “I know, Hermione, which is why I must protect you three this time!” Daphne shouted suddenly, startling them all. She hadn’t meant to yell, but her memories were already returning, and she was just so upset.

                “This time?” Draco inquired, meeting Daphne’s eyes.

                Daphne clenched her teeth, blinking back tears. She remembered another time, growing up and watching the three of them fall in love, and the powers it gave them. She was their closest friend, and she never feared what they could do with their magic, because she could see the strings of their bond as they all aged. Her desire to just lock all three away from the rest of the world was strong, and again in this lifetime it nearly drove her to tears. But, back then, there had been a High Council, and they had wanted the power for themselves. Not even knowing what a Triad or a Keeper was, they’d lured Daphne’s past life away from the three, and sacrificed her to complete the binding magic ceremony.

                “My name was Arya, but I’m sure you’ll remember in time,” Daphne said with finality. “Let me show you upstairs, to your rooms.”

                As Daphne began walking back towards the door that would lead them into the third-floor corridor, a set of stone stairs that were carved into the wall on the left side seemed to shimmer into appearance. They were perfectly placed so that whoever came down them could see the entire common room and into the back area that led to Daphne’s room, and a hand rail protected anyone from just toppling into the entryway.

                Once they reached the top of the long stairs, the solid door opened on its own into a spacious suite that was full of light due to the drawn curtains of the large windows along the right wall. Up here was fairly open-concept, one could all the way to the back of the room where, raised two steps in almost a mirror to downstairs, three, large, four-poster beds sat, walls that were half-height separating them off into personal areas. In the front part of the suite, however, was a lounge with a fireplace, same as the common room, but in place of the study tables and library area was a long dining table with many chairs. Instead of a wall with inlaid bookshelves, there were a long line of columns, and past that was the largest bathroom any of them had ever seen, the only door in sight led to the little water closet in the back-right corner of the bathroom, where the toilet was. On that same wall was a long counter with three sinks and cabinets underneath. Opposite the sinks, on the left wall of the bathroom was a large vanity done in the same black and grey marble, an ornate little chair delicately sat in front of it. The back wall of the shallow bathroom was taken up by a large, glass door shower on the left half, and a huge, deep, claw footed tub on the right half.

                “Wow,” Hermione said, moving towards their beds. Hers was clearly the middle one, lilac linen sheets, deep purple and gold hangings and a brown circular area rug giving it away. The bed to the left had to be Draco’s, the sheets were black and shiny, like silk, with grey hangings that were sheer, like Daphne’s had been. That left the last bed to be Harry’s. His had no hangings, but it was still a four-poster, with sky blue cotton sheets and a dark forest green quilt folded neatly at the foot. She noticed that he had a small window next to his bed, with his broom already propped up against the glass.

                “Daphne, did you think all of this up by yourself?” Draco asked. He had migrated over towards the bathroom, reminded of his parent’s suite at the Manor.

                “Just some of it,” she said from a seat at the dining table. “I let Hogwarts do the rest herself.”

                “This is amazing,” Harry said, still standing in the doorway.

                Draco turned to look at him, taking in his appearance. They’d had a long day, and it showed in the rumples of Harry’s jeans, T-shirt, and the flannel he’d thrown over it in a rush. His hair was more all over the place than usual, and the thought made Draco smile until a shooting pain in his head seemed to throw him into a vision of sorts.

 

                _He drowsily felt around the bed, knowing one of them was absent because of the persistent ache in his chest. His fingers found the soft skin of a dainty waist first, and he instantly knew that it was **her**_ , _meaning **he** was missing. Feeling around in the opposite direction, his fingers met the still-warm sheets where another body should be. _

_He cracked an eye open, dragging his pale hand into view to clutch at the empty pillow and drag it closer, burrowing his face in the scent that still clung to it. A quiet, deep chuckle from the bedroom doorway drew his attention._

_The figure there was Harry, but he wasn’t._

_A dark mess of hair atop his head, bright green eyes, toned chest and arm muscles on full display as he was shirtless. His glasses were a bit crooked, too._

_But there was no scar on his forehead. This version of him held himself like an aristocrat, the way Draco imagined he himself looked._

_“Come back to bed,” he heard his voice say. He sounded completely wrecked, and he could feel the erection growing in his boxers._

_He watched through hooded eyes as Harry-but-not-Harry stalked over to the bed slowly, like a predator hunting his prey. By the time he reached the bedside, Draco realized how low to the ground the large mattress was as one of his loves kneeled down on it, hovering over him._

_“I’ll always come back to you,” the husky voice that sounded so much like Harry whispered, emerald green eyes piercing his own. Then, those lips came down softly on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, both cheeks, before firmly planting themselves over his own._

                “He’ll come out of it naturally, Harry, give him a moment,” a familiar voice said from in front of him.

                “Why just him, though? Why so soon?” This one came from behind him. Right now he didn’t care what the voices were talking about, he could still feel Harry’s – but not Harry – familiar touch ghosting over his cheeks and down his neck as the kiss deepened.

                “Moerae always knew first. He was a Seer, and I suspect those powers have been echoed in this life, as Draco.”

                “So when will ours come?” A new voice, deeper and hovering above him, joined the conversation.

                “After the Reuniting Ritual. I am still figuring some things out-“

                “Show me,” the second voice interrupted the first. “We have to do this tonight, before Draco gets a vision in the middle of class and becomes vulnerable-“

                “Hermione,” the deep voice – Harry, his brain supplied – sounded stern, “the rest of the school arrives tomorrow for the feast, and classes start the day after. To our knowledge, this is the first vision he’s had while awake, I think he’ll be fine while Daphne figures the rest of it out. She’s as worried as you are.”

                There was a lull in the conversation, and Draco felt himself fully becoming aware of his body. He moaned at the headache that was growing between his eyes, and the fact that his stiff body was lying on the floor.

                “Draco?” Harry called, unable to completely keep the nervousness out of his voice. He leaned over and took Draco’s face in his hands, casually dragging one of his thumbs across his cheekbone affectionately.

                His eyes took forever to open, but when they did they zoomed right in on Harry with a focus that seemed to suck all the air from the room. Draco’s gaze flicked down to Harry’s lips, already knowing what they’d feel like pressed against his own but not daring to close the last few centimeters between them.

                “What did you see, Draco?” Harry asked, concern in his eyes.

                “You,” he answered, a small smile playing on his lips.

                Harry eased away, helping him sit up slowly. When Draco looked around, he noticed that it was Daphne standing a few feet in front of him, and Hermione had been the one behind him.

                “Draco, was this the first vision you’ve had of our past lives?” Hermione asked. She came around, hovering behind Harry who was still kneeling on the floor.

                “No,” he said, wincing at the lingering pain in his head, “the dreams I’ve gotten, since we were eleven, they never made sense at the time, but they must have been about who we were before. I never remembered much when I woke, to be honest. Just flashes, images, of faces – your faces. I thought they were just dreams.”

                Daphne moved to the sink area of the bathroom, rooting in the cupboards until she came up with a small vial of pain potion, moving to hand it to Draco. He took it gratefully, before moving to stand. Both Harry and Hermione helped him up, before all three turned their eyes to Daphne.

                She swallowed hard, knowing their next move needed to be the ritual but unsure how to get to that point.


	8. Hecate, For Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me and this story, having two fics going at once is nutso!!

The group of four decided to spend the rest of the day familiarizing themselves with their new living space, knowing that since tomorrow was September the First, they’d be expected to be out and about in the castle. After sharing a light dinner at their dining table, Daphne bid the three of them goodnight and retired to her room after such a long day. None of them could blame her.

                Having changed into their pajamas already, Draco was sat up in his bed, face in a novel, and Harry was drifting in and out of sleep on top of his _Quidditch Quarterly_ magazine. Hermione was gathering her things to shower and try to wash this day off, when an owl came tapping at the window near Harry’s bed.

                She rushed over to open a panel for the bird, not wanting it to wake Harry if he’d successfully fallen asleep. It landed on her bed, sticking its leg out, which clearly had a small note attached.

_Mione,_

_Where are you and Harry? I’ve been looking for you lot all day, and_

_Neville just told me to leave it alone. Are you and Harry getting too close?_

_Come find me and we’ll talk. I’ve told you, I want this to be something._

_Ron_

Hermione crumpled the note in her fist angrily. She had _never_ been Ron’s _anything_! Especially not after he left her and Harry in the middle of their Horcrux hunt! If what Daphne had told them was really true, then Ron was poking the wrong bear, as Hermione could feel the righteous fury building within her, fueling her magic.

“Whatever you’re planning won’t work,” Draco’s voice came over her shoulder, and she turned his way with an annoyed look on her face.

“I’m not planning _anything_ ,” she practically growled back.

Why are you glowing?” Harry’s sleepy, confused voice broke the tension that’d been creeping up inside of her.

She looked down at her hands and arms, letting out a huge gasp and then going deathly still. Her eyes widened, and she flicked her gaze between Draco and Harry, not knowing what to do.

“Oh, we are definitely them,” Draco said lowly, putting his book away.

“I thought we’d already established that?” Hermione asked, her voice coming out squeaky from her panic.

“You were just angry, weren’t you,” Harry said plainly, as if pointing out the obvious. At Hermione’s small nod, he sighed.

“Freedom,” Harry pointed to himself. “Fate,” he motioned towards Draco, then nodded his head her way and said, “Fury.”

Hermione calmed down as she took in this information, thus the glow subsided. She moved on autopilot through her shower and nightly routine as her brain whirred, before falling into bed and staring at the ceiling for a long while, lost in her thoughts. The boys were right, this was proof. But it was also hard to hide.

 

*****

 

“No! No, no, no!”

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as shouting woke her. Instantly, her wand was in her hand and she was up and moving before she could fully comprehend which direction she was going. All she did was follow the noise.

Directly to Harry’s bed.

Draco was already there, hands out but not touching the bed or Harry as it was obvious he was unsure what to do. She sped past him, grabbing onto Draco and tossing him in the general direction of the other side of the bed while she climbed in and shushed Harry. Draco followed Hermione’s lead once he saw how much Harry relaxed once she was touching him.

Hermione kissed Harry’s brow before tucking herself into his side, allowing her sleepy eyes to droop closed again. It was obvious that she was used to this, whereas Draco was not.

He watched as both of their breathing evened out. He smoothed Harry’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. He reached across the bed and intertwined his fingers with Hermione’s, gently.

Draco fell back into sleep feeling perfect.

 

_He was in a cave, pacing and mumbling to himself, “Stupid, righteous woman.”_

_A figure loomed, barely out of the shadows with a cloak across their shoulders and hood pulled up, shrouding their face but not the long locks of fair blonde hair._

_“Stars,” a feminine voice came from the figure, who finally stepped into the light and pushed off the hood._

_“Moon, beloved sister, you bring news?” He quit pacing, looking to the woman who was his younger sister. The woman wore the face of Luna Lovegood._

_“Your Jupiter, he worries,” she said plainly._

_“Hecate,” he nodded, running a hand over his face tiredly._

_“Why do I bring you news, when you are already privy to the goings-on of your true loves?”_

_“You know why, dearest Moon,” he sighed._

_“Moerae, you may be Fate itself, but you have to let them make their own paths!” The Luna woman shouted fiercely._

_“I will protect them!” He yelled back._

_“No, I will protect all of you,” she vowed. There was a deep pause, before she slid her hood back into place and calmly disappeared._

“Luna,” Draco said as he began to blink his sleepy eyes open.

“What about her?” Harry’s deeper, morning voice came from the head resting on Draco’s shoulder.

Draco shifted onto his side, content to bury his face in Harry’s outrageous bed-head. He glanced over at Hermione, who was still asleep. The light still hadn’t touched her face.

“I had a vision,” Draco swallowed thickly. “She was my sister. Well – when I was Moerae.”

“You should go talk to her,” Harry said, yet making no move to let him go.

“Let’s get up and have breakfast first, then I’ll take Daph and find her,” Draco reasoned.

The two of them lazed about for the remainder of the hour, which was all the time it took for Hermione to wake. All three of them were much more relaxed just by sharing a bed through the night, and constantly being able to casually touch the other two. Already their magic felt stronger.

 

*****

 

                Daphne and Draco didn’t have to search long for Luna, because it was her who found them.

                “You know,” were the only words Luna said, her slightly vacant gaze settling on Draco. He nodded, thinking idly of the last time they’d seen each other as siblings.

                “What did you do?” Draco asked her.

                “I cursed us all.”

                Daphne watched as the two of them seemed to slip into a familiarity with each other that she’d never witnessed, that she could remember yet.

                Draco narrowed his eyes on Luna, his anger rising in a way he always thought he’d never get to experience. It shrouded out the tiny giddy feeling he had that he was no longer an only child.

                “You _knew_!” He shouted.

                “ _Of course I knew_!” She retaliated, before regaining her composure with a pause. “Of course, I knew. My Seeing was out of control, I knew I had to do something. I was unsure what, until I Saw myself, in this time, as Luna Lovegood, writing out instructions for a curse that would save my brother and his beloved ones.”

                “You made us reincarnate,” Daphne breathed out in shock.

                “I couldn’t let your love story end that way, Moerae,” Luna said, almost flatly.

                “Do you know the Reuniting Ritual? There was only a passing mention of it in the book about them, and I have to give them their memories. Even I only have about half of them,” Daphne practically blurted out.

                “Oh,” Luna reached into her pocket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment before handing it over to Daphne, “here.” The name _Arya_ was scrawled across it in an elegant script, and Daphne’s breath caught at the sight of it.

                She opened it carefully, knowing it was old and delicate despite probably being charmed to never fade or disintegrate. In the same script as her old name was a letter, giving the Ritual down to the last graphic detail, even a location and date to hold it. At the bottom of the page was only a familiar drawing of a crescent moon and a star.

                “Menodora,” Draco whispered, causing Daphne to pull her attention from the letter and back to her friends.

                “Moerae,” Luna whispered back as she caught and lightly squeezed his hand.


End file.
